


Have you heard?

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Series: Den lille Havfrue [3]
Category: Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid - Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, and she loves humans with all her little heart, in which the little mermaid looks at what the prince offers her and is not satisfied, like she did at home below the waters, on spinsters and mermaids and witches and perception, the little mermaid is black, the mermaid tends to her garden, the princess is korean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 16:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16329887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: The prince died in his wedding night and the Queen brought us back the spinster, a glow to her skin. Have you ever wondered who drove that knife through his chest?





	Have you heard?

Have you heard of the spinster, my love? She lives at the edge of the ocean, her hair wild curls, her feet ever bleeding, greets this world with a smile.

Have you heard of the spinster, my love, her rough hands and her garden full of all the things none of us dare ask for? She has a tea for all your woes, a wordless song for all your aches. She must be a witch, my love, I’m sure of it. Have you seen her eyes gleam, do you know what it is she adorns herself with?

Have you heard of the spinster, my love? The prince died in his wedding night and the Queen brought us back the spinster, a glow to her skin. Have you ever wondered who drove that knife through his chest? A knife made of nacre and bone, I’ve never seen such a thing.

Have you heard of the spinster, my love, soaking her feet in the sea, each morning, and it seems as if the stones on her necklace were as bright as the sun rising slowly from the water, tainting it first blood-red, then peach-yellow? The fishers say that is the best time to throw out the nets. Do you not wonder why?

Have you heard of the spinster, my love, voiceless and beautiful and shark teethed? My love, have you heard the cliffs sing, on those days when the sea is a mirror and no sailor dares step on a boat? Have you seen the spinster, barefoot and billow-clothed, dancing as the wind and all its rage shrieks around her?

Have you heard of the spinster, my love? Women come to her, their hands blistered and bruised, their mouths a tragedy wept, and they return bearing gifts for the men with their eyes, their hands in their flesh. Have you been to any of these men’s funerals? Parents knock at the spinster’s door, cradling their fading children in their arms and the spinster smiles, smiles, smiles and pulls the little things away from Death’s soothing whispers.

Have you heard of the spinster, my love? Have you seen her sit at the edge of the sea, her eyes closed, the Queen’s hands in her hair? She is a beautiful woman, our Queen, her skin like snow, her hair like embers. She wears the loss of our King, our prince and his mouthful of laughter, in lace and silk around her chest, black and sleek as her hair.

Have you heard of the spinster, my love, her voiceless laughter, her hands unravelling all the mourning our Queen bears for all the world to see? Do you not wonder, my love, about the red dotting our Queen’s cheeks, about the spinster’s hands, tainted green and scratched open from her gardening, touching her?

Have you heard of the spinster, my love? Have you ever seen her garden? It is a sight to behold, they say, from the darkest leaves, black as tar, to the whitest blossoms, it is as if she’d captured all the world’s colours to grow at her feet. She weaves thorned roses and blooming aconite into her wild hair, bares her teeth in an almost smile at those who leer at her and her skin as dark as black birch’s bark.

Have you heard of the spinster, my love?

?Have you


End file.
